


Non Solem, Non Lunam

by nnovis



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Cottagecore, F/M, Fluff, Husbands, M/M, Making that clear, Marriage, No Spoilers for the Readers, Not Beta Read, ROLEPLAY PERSONAS ONLY, author thinks hes funny for putting samsung in as a character, i am choosing NOT to use warnings for spoilers, not the content creators, samsung is not a refrigerator, she's a person, summary is purposefully vague, tags added as story continues, will contain heavy amounts of angst, youll be fine until ch2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:34:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29095080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nnovis/pseuds/nnovis
Summary: Married, life had been peaceful after the war.  The notorious Blade and an infamous, faceless spy, living within their cottage, loving, living, and entirely content.  Their years of pain and suffering were behind them, and they had nothing to focus on besides themselves now.But of course, as all things do, life changes, and no soul has ever gone against the grasp of fate.━━━Updates Thursdays.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Dream/Technoblade, Philza/Samsung
Comments: 74
Kudos: 319





	1. World Lore (Skippable)

World Building and A/N that isn't justifiable in a small a/n area, feel free to skip to the next chapter!

Shoutout to my boyfriend Cupid who encouraged me to write this, first of all. Ilyt, and you can’t tell me to shut up here so I win mwah <3

Sappy shit aside with him aside, I was told that this is kinda reminiscent of a Tales of the SMP stream (feel free to spoil me in the comments, I don’t have the time to watch everything), but it will very much veer from what happened in its plot. I did not write this based off of it, nor did I take inspiration from it.

Now, onto my little world building thing. I like to write Minecraft through a realistic POV, so have this:

CANON DEATHS:

Each person--initially--starts out with three lives, so to speak. Nobody knows  _ why _ or how, exactly, it works, but some theorize it was implemented by the ancients with their advanced technology, while others theorize it as a gift from their gods. In the end, none truly know.

One can tell when a  _ canon death _ occurs to them. Whether it’s overwhelming pain, are just an overwhelming  _ emotion _ , it is unmistakable that a life has been taken from them, and their body is forced into a comatose state for 24hrs, but it can extend on longer depending on the state of the physical body. The longest a body has been recorded to be in a comatose state has been a week.

POTIONS:

A potion can only do so much. Yes, they can help one with fatal wounds, make you go faster amongst other things, but some have draw-backs. The most important are shown below:

Regeneration and Healing potions: Much akin to drugs, if one uses these types of potions too much, one’s body  _ will _ become dependent on it, and slowly stop regenerating on its own. Thus, too much of these potions can become fatal in certain cases. Healing potions are able to heal scars if cultivated in a specific way.

Poison potions: Poison potions, if potent enough, are enough to kill.

Instant Damage potions: Despite being magic, they can leave physical wounds, much akin to burn wounds. 

Potions aren’t common items, found and used mainly by high-ranking military officials and military doctors and such. There are apothecaries found, though, that have brewing stands. They usually charge high, though, because not many can find their way into the Nether in the first place, let alone survive in it and come back (in the time period this fic takes place in).

ARMOR, CHESTS, ETC:

These are used as it would be in, per se, medieval times. In fact, I’d place this fic’s time period in a medieval period, if not the years before it. Think of armor usage in DnD terms (if you’ve ever ventured into it): light armor, like leather, only takes a few minutes to take on/take off, but heavier armor like iron and diamond armor can take 10 minutes at  _ minimum _ to take on or off. It’s not a speedy process.

Chests are just chests, and would  _ not _ be able to fit multiple stacks of, per se, Minecraft’s golden apples, and fitting an entire set is impossible to do if it’s iron or diamond armor, leather and chainmail are  _ very _ tight squeezes in. Armor stands are used for armor if the armor isn’t hung on a wall or something akin to that.

This can be updated as time goes on, and I highly doubt that it won’t. For now, though, that’s it for some good ol’ world building lore. Please enjoy :)

I don’t quite know what my update schedule will be, as I’m uploading this to get--well, in hopes of getting--motivation to continue writing this, because I honestly think this’ll end up pretty nice. Hopefully. As of current me writing this, I’m a good 1k words into the second chapter and probably halfway done with it, so  _ hopefully _ I can maybe have it finished by tonight or tomorrow and uploaded soon after.

Small warnings (I'll post it in A/N next chapter as well, but you can be a cool kid and read it here first B) ):

Heavy Gore will be included.

This will get angsty.

Nobody is immune to death.

Religious themes (won't be heavy, but a possible reoccurring theme within the work).

Thank you for reading!


	2. Duabus Animabus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some domestic fluff for the soul, mwah, enjoy !

It was waking up to Dream that was one of the best things. Such a sentence was one to be taken with a grain of salt, though not because it lacked meaning, but rather because of how _often_ Techno had such a thought. He’d thought the best moment had been many things: Dream’s laugh, Dream grinning, holding Dream in his arms, kissing Dream, when--perhaps it was suffice enough to summarize that Dream was the best thing.

Techno had never considered himself a soft man. He’d spent years as a soldier, climbing his way up through the ranks upon a staircase of blood. _The Blade_ , that’s what his superiors had called him, his fellow soldiers called him as they gave him a slap on the back, mugs of beer raised up in victory. For days, for weeks, for months, for years, his only purpose in life came from his battles and his swordsmanship, to live up to his namesake of being the Blade, being a weapon, but, oh, how it had changed when he had met Dream. At the time, Dream had just been another spy, another soldier trapped behind enemy lines, a way for Techno to further prove his name true. He would’ve scoffed back then if you told him where he was right now. Nevertheless, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“What’re you thinkin’ ‘bout?” The question was muddled with sleep, bleary green eyes gazing up at him half-opened. Techno could let himself get lost in them, and he had before. Maybe Dream’s eyes were one of the best things, a pretty color and so utterly full of devotion when looking up at him. Beautiful, captivating, and Dream’s.

Techno didn’t give an answer, instead opting to give Dream’s forehead a kiss. “G’morning to you too.” It was met with a huff, but a simple glance down showed the grin on his lover’s face that completely negated any feigned annoyance.

“I’m only gonna make breakfast for me today.” It was an empty threat, but acted out well enough. Dream turned around so his back faced Techno, as if he were annoyed, quite possibly disgruntled by Techno’s avoidance of his answer.

In return, Techno merely tightened his grip around Dream, pulling the other in closer and nestling his face into a dirty blond morning hair mess. No words were necessary, the actions spoke loud enough: no you wouldn’t. An attempted laugh being stifled was heard in response. “I’m very serious. I refuse to make you breakfast today, even if you’re being unfairly adorable.”

That earned a laugh from Techno, which in turn made Dream laugh--oh, Techno would never grow tired of hearing Dream laugh. His love turned back around, planting a soft kiss upon Techno’s lips. “So you’ll kiss me, but you won’t make me breakfast?” He teased, having to hold back more laughter as the adoring look on Dream’s face turned into one of disbelief at Techno’s teasing.

“Shut up, you asshole.” Dream brought a hand up, smacking the other’s arm, which only drew a laugh from Technoblade.

Their conversation continued with that light-hearted tone, with just two smitten idiots waking up with the other, just two husbands in the morning, not wanting to get out of bed, out of the other’s arms. Eventually, they did, inevitable as any other day. Untrue to his word, Dream did make the both of them breakfast, with help from Techno, of course. And if their food almost got burnt because when Techno hugged Dream from behind Dream just absolutely melted in his husband’s arms, leaning back and relaxing in the arms of his beloved, only to be brought back to reality by Techno frantically speaking, “Dream, our food-” and to which Dream _almost_ panicked, curses tumbling from his lips as he payed attention to his food once again, well, who’s to say anything? Their food was made fine, perhaps just a bit overdone, but tasted nice nonetheless. Even if it didn’t, neither would complain, though Techno might’ve teased Dream about it. Nothing hurtful, because Dream would do the same thing back if it had been Techno who’d made the food.

“Are you gonna meet with George and Sapnap today?” The question broke the comfortable silence between the two, replacing it with a comfortable ambience that drifted aside the sound of dishes being scrubbed and dried.

“Definitely.” Dream nodded, placing a dried plate up inside of its selected cupboard. “It’s been a while since they’ve visited, so I’ll probably be home late tonight. Don’t stay up too late for me, yeah?”

“No promis-”

“ _Tech_ .” Dream nudged the other with his elbow, pausing from drying a dish as he rose his brows. “I’m serious. It took forever to unfuck your sleep schedule, and it will be a _pain_ if I have to do it again.”

The taller of the two huffed, almost _pouting_. “Usin’ my sleep schedule against me? Horrible.”

“Oh shut up.” Dream laughed, a grin alight on his freckled face. Techno had tried to kiss every one of those freckles before, but Dream had begun to laugh too hard, which infected Techno, and within a minute of Techno’s trial to kiss every freckle dotting Dream’s face, they both were a laughing mess.

Techno let out a quiet laugh, pressing a kiss against Dream’s cheek. “If ya wanna go out an’ meet ‘em right now, I can finish up the dishes. There isn’t a lot, an’ you haven’t seen ‘em for a while.”

Dream perked up at the offer, a sparkle in his eyes. “Really?”

“No, I said that just to get your hopes up.” That brought another soft punch to his shoulder, but Techno grinned nonetheless. “Yes, I meant it. Go an’ meet up with ‘em.”

“I’ll do the laundry this week instead of you to make it up to you. And maybe something more.” Dream's words came with a cheesy wiggle of his eyebrows, and it was a pain for Techno to not laugh at the horrible display.

“You don’t have-” His words were cut off by Dream kissing him, short and sweet, a cheeky grin on his lips. Techno knew he’d done it on purpose, just to shut his refusal up, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care about it. Putting on an annoyed face--one he knew Dream knew was fake--he spoke, “Really? That’s the goodbye kiss I get?”

Dream laughed, and it was a beautiful tinkle of bells to his ears, and with the morning’s light shining in through their window, it made it seem like Dream was glowing, comparable to the radiance and beauty of the sun itself.

They kissed again, longer and sweeter, Dream’s hand placing itself on his neck, and in a moment of forgetfulness, he brought his soapy hand down to Dream’s waist.

“Your hand is _wet_ -” Dream broke their kiss, a wheezing laugh leaving him.

“It’s almost like I was washin’ the dishes or somethin’ like that.” An idea striking him, he brought his hand back, dipping it into the water. “Now if ya don’t get goin’, that handprint won’t be the only wet spot on your clothes.”

“You-” Techno brought his wet hand up oh so menacingly, and Dream put his hands up in surrender, stepping backwards. “Alright, alright, I’m going, I’m going.” The laugh that left him was more of a giggle, and took a step back in, giving Techno’s cheek one last kiss. “I’ll tell George and Sapnap you said hi.”

“Thank ya. Now get goin’, an’ don’t cause too much ruckus with ‘em.”

“No guarantees!” And with that--and another threat with Techno’s wet hand--Dream was off, probably to return at some ungodly hour in the morning. Not that Techno minded, he enjoyed seeing his husband so happy. Finishing the dishes, it was a lazy day, but a good day for sitting down and reading a book. True to his word, he didn’t stay up for Dream to come home in the morning like Dream had asked. Sleeping alone wasn’t something he was used to, but he knew in the morning he’d wake up either with Dream in his arms or himself in Dream’s arms, so in the end it didn’t matter. And in the end, as the next day began, he’d once again wake up to the best thing in the world, Dream.


	3. Perditus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't want to read heavy angst, I suggest you stop reading here. No, I will not specify what the angst is, but know it is heavy.

When morning came, the only warmth in the bed came from himself. It was strange, lying in their bed alone, eyes opening to see the morning sun shining on the covers. Off-putting and unusual, for obvious reasons. How long had it been since the last time he’d woken up in bed alone? Years--it had to have been years.

Rolling to his side, he merely gave a mental shrug before getting up, bones giving satisfying pops as he stretched, a grunt leaving him. Walking out of his and Dream’s bedroom, he made his way through the house to their kitchen, only halfheartedly paying attention. His mind was wandering, he made breakfast on autopilot.

The house was quiet without Dream.

That was obvious, something he’d known for a while. After all, he didn’t keep Dream cooped up in their house, let alone Dream keeping him cooped up in here. No, that part was on his own accord, Techno wasn’t one for socializing. He much preferred to keep to himself, being around a bunch of strangers--especially when he was forced to _converse_ with them--could get a bit… uncomfortable for him, to say the very least. Especially so with his natural monotone voice and resting bitch face, he naturally came off as intimidating, which helped the namesake--one he now despised--but most certainly didn’t help with socializing. How Dream managed to fall for his socially awkward ass, let alone enough to want to _marry_ him, Techno had no clue, but he was sure as hell wasn’t opposed to it.

Dream.

Techno paused mid bite, a frown on his face as he glanced out the window. What was it, eight? Maybe nine in the morning? Dream usually would’ve been home by now. Did something happen? Did Dream get hurt? No--he would’ve gotten George or Sapnap to come tell him something had happened, but-

There went Techno, worrying over nothing again. Dream would’ve smacked the back of his head--lightly, of course--and told him to stop being such a worrywart. _I can handle myself,_ he would’ve said, a fond grin on his face. The thought brought a smile to his own, and he did his best to let his worries drop. Dream wasn’t something fragile, he wasn’t a maiden in distress. Dream could almost--and actually had a few times--bested him in combat. If Dream could fight against Techno and win, then he most certainly could handle himself.

With that thought in mind, he finished eating his breakfast. He’d made extra for Dream--of course he did, he’d be an asshole if he didn’t--and, obviously, the plate was untouched. Dream’d have to deal with cold food when he got back, and if he got back before lunch or dinner.

Getting up from the table, he walked over to their makeshift little sink, reaching out to grab their soap, only for his hand to come up empty. Shit. They were out of soap.

An annoyed sigh left him, and he put the dirtied dish and utensils down into the sink. He’d have to go shopping, wouldn’t he? Well, at least he could go and find Dream. Maybe he’d tease him about waking up in a cold bed or something like that, maybe see if Sapnap wanted to duel again. Something like that. Dream’s friends weren’t horrible to socialize with, anyways.

Thus, he began his travel to the nearby village.

\- + -

He’d made sure to have brought a list with him--and his emeralds, of course--before he started his trek to the village. It wasn’t too far away, probably a thirty minute walk or so, and Techno enjoyed the walk there. It was a nice solitude, a breath of air before having to go and interact.

Both him and Dream enjoyed the solitude that living in the forest brought. Plus, if they wanted to, they could just go and hunt for their food instead of having to go to the village and buy it. Hunting was fun, and helped keep their skills in check. Dueling was also a fun way for that, and probably something they did a bit too often, but they both enjoyed it, and that’s what mattered.

Usually they’d walk together down their path to the village, and in silence more often than not. It wasn’t the uncomfortable type of silence, either. No, it was the opposite of that; it was the type of silence where you could bask in the presence of the other, one that gave reminiscences of the warm rays of sunlight that shined in the golden hour, a moment so beautiful that you wanted it to stay permanently, engraved in a physical form to serve as a reminder of _look, look at this moment and the joy it brought me._

Maybe he should’ve became a poet instead of becoming a soldier.

Techno almost laughed at the thought. Dream would’ve been wheezing in laughter if he were here. Techno would have to tell him the thought when he met him in the village.

Speaking of the village, it was already in sight. Techno picked up his pace, and he’d blame it on wanting to get shopping done as fast as possible if Dream were to see him. Of course, Dream would know it was a lie and that maybe, just _maybe_ Techno wanted to see him. Yes, yes, they’d been gone without each other for _much_ longer periods of time before, but it didn’t mean Techno didn’t miss his husband any less.

Shopping was done without much thought, the majority of his attention spent listening in on the crowds to see if he could hear his husband’s practically trademarked wheezing laugh, George’s scream--no creature should be able to scream that loud or high-pitched--that was undoubtedly caused by some hijinx of Sapnap or Dream (probably both), or maybe even Sapnap trying to pick a fight with a poor passerby. He still remembered that one time Sapnap had yelled at a kid that its birthday party sucked. Poor kid. Techno would’ve cared more if he didn’t dislike kids as much as he did.

Unfortunately for him, none of those noises popped up, nor did he catch any glimpses of the trio. Really, the village seemed quieter than it usually was, and people seemed almost on edge. If Techno cared enough, he’d ask someone about it, so he’d be questionless until bothered.

Nonetheless, he was about halfway done with finishing his list, and that didn’t stop him for continuing to try listening for the trio. Such was exactly what he was doing until he got a tug on his sleeve, accompanied by a nervous clearing of someone’s throat.

A frown was quick to slip onto his face, and he turned around, gaze falling on a shorter woman--she was familiar. Where did she work? The bakery? Ah--right. Niki. Dream liked the bread the bakery made, and she ran it. A nice person, but not one he interacted much with. 

“Hullo.” A simple greeting, shifting the bag thrown over his shoulder filled with the items he’d already bought. Maybe he’d see if Niki had some bread for sale still and buy a loaf for Dream. Was this what this was about? Niki offering some bread, or something like that.

“Techno,” Her nervousness was evident in the way she couldn’t stay still for too long, but there was something else in there--sadness? Grief? Had something happened that he wasn’t aware of? Techno was about to comment on it when Niki spoke up again, “Could you follow me? It’s urgent.” 

A brow was risen at the statement. What was this, did the village need help with defending or something? He’d heard rumors of a group of thieves or something of the sort looking for something, but those were only rumors, and Techno didn’t care for them. True or not, he was done with fighting, Dream and him had already agreed on that. Years wasted in the bloodshed of war, what they both needed was peace. Techno refused to become the Blade, and that decision was final.

So, he scoffed, about to move past Niki and get his shopping done with, “No thanks. I’ve gotta get this shit done with before Dream-”

“It’s about Dream.”

The baker didn’t need to put out an arm to stop him, the mention of his husband’s name was enough. Turning to face her, the baker held his gaze. “Follow me. Please.”

There was a pit in his stomach as he nodded, a sudden uneasiness as his nerves began to work up as he walked after Niki. What possibly could’ve happened? Was Dream hurt? No--no, that was stupid. This was _Dream_ , a former spy renowned for getting out of tough situations with his agility and speed. He could easily find a way to get out of a situation where it was him against a group of five people, and unscathed at that. Even if he decided to fight, Dream could damn well hold his own, and Techno would know. He’d dueled against Dream countless times, and there were multiple times when Dream had won--Techno was still the reigning victor, though, ahead of Dream by quite a bit of a lead.

Dream would be fine. In fact, the idiot was probably in jail or something like that, having done something dumb with George and Sapnap. Techno rolled his eyes at that thought, because of _course_ the trio would do something stupid like that. With the knowledge of Sapnap’s tendencies, they probably started a fire and it caught fire onto something else. _Idiots_. The lot of them were idiots, and Techno was going to have to bail them out of jail. He’d scold Dream for it, but only lightly, because Techno couldn’t find it within himself to actually get mad at his husband. He was just… Dream. He was Dream, and Techno couldn’t possibly get mad at his beloved, even if he’d landed up in jail.

Niki led him past the village’s poor excuse of a jailhouse.

Techno had never disliked a silence as much as he did right now.

That panic was rising up again, anxiety twisting his chest in a cold grip. Each step seemed to be taken so, so slow, and he’d never wanted to sprint to somewhere so badly before, but of course he couldn’t, because he was being _led_ , he didn’t know where they were going, nor what awaited him there except for it had to do something with Dream and-

They stopped in front of Ospitalite, which, really, was just a sad excuse for a hospital, more of a sickbay than anything. For a few moments he stood in front of the door, Niki still standing there, next to the door. Eyes casting downwards, her voice was soft as she spoke, “I’m sorry.” She didn’t linger for any longer than that, walking back off to the marketplace, leaving Techno standing there with a sick feeling in his stomach.

Techno--Technoblade, he was the _Blade_ , he didn’t fear anything, he’s faced death and laughed in its very face, but, gods, Techno was scared to open the door and walk in. He forced himself too, that creak of the door still left unfixed. A tired gaze snapped up to meet him from behind a shabby wooden desk. “I’ll sho-”

“Which cot.” He didn’t care for pleasantries, and couldn’t care less as the doctor flinched as Techno cut him off.

“The third room. Blade--sir, I-”

Techno paid no mind to the doctor’s stuttering attempt of words, his bag of the groceries he’d bought being carelessly dropped, feet carrying him swiftly to the designated cot, the white sheets separating the _rooms_ doing nothing to help calm his nerves as he reached the third, all but ripping open its door of a white sheet. “Dream, you idiot, what the hell-” His words caught in his throat.

Techno was no stranger to soulless bodies. He was no stranger to bloodied clothes worn by unstaring eyes. He’d woken up next to corpses and dying men, had watched death’s hand did its work, watched the blessing of life leave bodies upon bodies. He’d traversed in the tundra, saw the cold, frozen bodies of the dead, watched bodies burnt, heard people scream for mercy before killing them, the sobs of those who’d lost their family, killed children, he’d--so much, he’d done, and yet-

“ _Dream_ ,” His husband’s name, brokenly falling from his lips, and he doesn’t register himself walking forward, and he’s almost repulsed to touch the other, because--Dream, this was Dream, it was his corpse, Dream’s dead body, no rise or fall in his chest, no life within his eyes and bloody, oh so _bloody_ as he grasped onto Dream’s shirt, the dried blood crackling at his grasp, his other hand oh so delicately cupping a cold face.

A sob left him, and when had his hands started to tremble? “Dream-” His name, spoken again, a plea as he brought his head down, face burying into the crook of a corpse. How, how, _how_ \- “ _Dream_ ,” The name of a dead man continuously poured from his lips like a prayer. Something had been _torn_ from him, and there was a pit in his chest that was just _empty_ . This emptiness, it wasn’t one he’d felt before; it wasn’t the same numbing emptiness he’d felt in war, no, _no_ , this, it was worse, it was raw and he didn’t feel numb, he felt _pain_ . Something had been ripped out from his entire self, and it left a raw, gaping wound, and it left him _hurting._

His head was brought up, and for a moment he felt _hate._ “You promised-” He choked on his own words, the ring on his finger glinting cruelly in a catch of light. “You promised you’d never leave me.” That he wouldn’t betray him, would only see him as the human he was, that’d he’d love Techno until his dying breath, and then even longer, after death he’d continue to love-

_‘Til death do we part._

Dream wasn’t supposed to die. They--the Blade and Dream, notorious for their acts in war, always coming back alive, despite the odds, they always lived, they survived, they lived, they lived, they lived-

“Who did this?” His words were quiet, gaze staring at dulled green eyes that looked past him. Someone had taken something, some _one_ important to him. Someone had stolen his Dream, his life, his love, his _Dream._

“ _Who did this?_ ” The words were enraged, head whipping to the doctor that stood behind him, hand tightly clutching a bloodied shirt.

The man tensed, mouth opening and closing before speaking, “I.. I wouldn’t know, I wasn’t-”

“Then get someone who _knows_ before I kill _everybody_ in this village!” The words were spat, an unholy rage spewed with them. The doctor gave a nod, eyes wide in fear before _running_ out of the makeshift hospital, wooden door slamming shut in his haste.

Techno had promised Dream never to fight again, not to kill unless necessary, not to strike the first blow.

A broken promise for a broken promise.

Techno let his attention turn back to his lover’s body, gaze lingering. Whoever did this would pay. A life for lives, because whoever killed Dream had angered the Blade, and the Blade would set the world ablaze without a second thought to kill whoever had taken the one thing in the world that he held dear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Publishing the first chapter def helped me make this. Seeing your guys' comments helped hella with motivation :) Thank you guys for reading a WIP!! yalls the real mvps. love yalls <3


	4. Meus Cupitus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weekly updates pog? still not beta'd, yell at me in comments for obvious mistakes
> 
> this is more lore-building(?), but it's necessary in the longrun. next chapter should be ~fun~, so enjoy!

Meeting with the detective of the time was less than helpful. It was better than--no, it wasn’t better than nothing, Techno would’ve done a better job on it if he had done it himself, but maybe that was biased, but it felt  _ wrong _ to be told what he had been. It’d been just an  _ unlucky _ situation, a  _ robbery gone wrong _ . A robbery that left three dead,  _ bullshit _ . 

Despite their agreement, it was obvious that they wouldn’t just  _ let _ someone fight against them with no resistance. They both were hardened soldiers in their own respects, both able killers, they had  _ thrived _ in bloodshed, so it was absolute  _ bullshit  _ that it was a robbery gone wrong, because there was no way in hell that Dream would let his friends and himself die, not at least without taking others down with him.

When he had spoken those thoughts, the detective gave him a look of pity, and it took effort to keep his fist clenched at his side and not break it into the detective’s face right then and there. Somehow, he’d managed to keep his calm, and had asked where the sight of the  _ robbery gone wrong _ \--the words had felt tainted on his tongue--and managed to get an answer. He’d slammed the door when he left, the thought of causing the detective to flinch giving him a sense of justice, a small sense of satisfaction as he made his way to the area where Dream-

It was in an alleyway.

They hadn’t bothered to clean up the blood yet.

For a moment, Techno didn’t want to go in; didn’t want to step further into the area that death’s hand had reached out and taken its grasp, but it was that desire for revenge that had pushed him into it, forcing his feet to place themselves one in front of the other.

The torches hung unlit on the walls, leaving what little of the sunlight that peaked through the two building’s overhanging roofs to light his path. It was easy to tell where the deaths had occurred, dried blood staining the cobblestone and ugly reddish brown. The bodies must’ve laid there for a while, probably from the state of the blood, twelve hours or so.  _ They didn’t bother to clean up his blood.  _ It was almost disrespectful, and if Dream weren’t here, he’d rip-

Techno paused at the thought, eyes screwing shut tightly as he had to remind himself to  _ breathe _ . Dream was--he need to find those responsible, and he needed to watch them bleed out on the ground like they’d done to Dream, he wanted to make them writhe in pain, needed to see them  _ beg _ for his mercy, but that wouldn’t be able to happen if he didn’t find out who had taken his Dream from him. He had to be smart about this, Dream would say that to him, would remind him that patience existed and that not everything was about the swing of a sword or axe. He’d lightly punch Techno’s shoulder before leaning against him, and then chastise him for being impatient. It was a game they played, really, because then Techno would go in for a kiss, only to be stopped and be told by Dream he was going to be taking a patience test, and he’d have to wait for another kiss, and-

There were tears falling again, and the breath he took in was shaky. He--Techno needed to focus. Bringing an arm up, he wiped off the tears from his face, steeling himself. There had to be something here. Dream--he would put up a fight, unless he was forced to do otherwise, and if that was the case, he’d leave a sign of such a struggle. An event like that had occurred back when Dream’s profession was a spy, and it were those clues--found by none other than Techno himself back then--that had led the rescue team to find Dream and save his ass. It was just a matter of finding them at this point.

Three distinct blood pools stained the ground. That wasn’t to say, though, there wasn’t blood dried in other places. No, a trail first started in the beginning of the alleyway, working inwards. The trail was moreso consistent of droplets, unseen by the non-meticulous eye, and they led past where the bodies were found in their pools of blood.

Bodies. It felt off, calling them bodies, it didn’t feel right, he’d known all three of them, was married to-

Focus.

Techno took another deep breath in, a shaky breath out soon following. The droplets led to a smaller pool of blood, so  _ why _ would one of them get wounded deeper? No--no, there were droplets splattered off to the side. Had it been almost a hostage holding situation? Had Sapnap or George been held at knifepoint, but then cast aside, only for another to take their place? It wouldn’t make sense if they’d switched out George or Sapnap with the other, whatever other person in the group--it had to have been a group, not one person could take on Dream alone, let alone Dream, Sapnap,  _ and _ George--had to have been holding one of them hostage like before, because George or Sapnap would’ve ran like all hell to safety and gotten someone to help while Dream would’ve stayed to diffuse the situation. There had to have been multiple attackers, but that didn’t explain why there would be a-

Symbols could be written in blood.

Where the hell did that switched trail of droplets lead to?

Techno’s footsteps were cautious, eyes scouring the ground, following, following, before--he recognized that symbol.

The symbols were messy, and barely visible, the coded words scraped onto the wall with Dream’s own blood.  _ That _ was why there was a switch, Dream purposely got himself hurt so he could write this message, risked getting killed to send a message across, a message to his husband, to Techno. It was hard to swallow for a moment, and he had to blink some tears away as he peered and the sloppily scrawled symbols of code, being able to mentally decipher the words fast after all these years.

_ 5\. Set up. _

Five attackers, and a set up. Techno knew the robbery gone wrong was bullshit. Three versus five would’ve-- _ should’ve _ \--been a winning battle if Dream was involved, but Techno wouldn’t doubt that the trio had been ambushed, and from the proximity they were to the village’s hotel, they’d been walking to it together, and Dream would’ve parted with them and headed back home to Techno. Whoever the hell had done this had planned this, and had done it with purposeful intent, but  _ why _ ? What could they have gained? Was it maybe someone Techno or Dream had wronged years prior? Even so, it was  _ war _ , and they didn’t have much of a damn choice. Even moreso, they’d settled damn far away and made sure their identities stayed within the village. Techno doubted not everybody knew who Dream was, his husband had been good about keeping his identity secret, better than Techno. So whoever had ambushed the trio, they had to have been smart, and this… It had to have been preplanned for months, waiting for the right moment to strike after undoubtedly months of research into where the duo had ended up after the war.

_ Why? _

Maybe--maybe Dream had managed to get the information out of them before he--before he had…

Techno had to look for more symbols.

He traced back in his steps, eyes searching, up the walls and by other trails and droplets of blood before ending back up by the pools of blood.

_ One of these pools of blood belonged to Dream. _

He shoved the thought out of his head before crouching down, eyes scanning for anymore symbols, anymore clues Dream had left behind for him. On the third pool he looked at, he found what he was looking for.

The place where Dream died fueled the fire building within him. On the opposite side of the wall were the other two pools of blood lay dry, that was where the third pool was. Where  _ Dream’s _ blood stained the cobble, they had--they undoubtedly forced him to watch his friends die, helpless as he died himself, they didn’t allow him to be by their sides, made him watch, made Dream-

The fury Techno was going to unleash upon the attackers knew no bounds. If a god existed, even they wouldn’t be able to stop him, Techno would kill them if they dared interfere with his retribution. He’d force them to die slowly, find out what they held dearest, kill it in front of them, even if it was their own  _ children- _

Focus.

Techno crouched down, gaze lingering on the blood. He should look for the symbols, he knew it, but- “I’m sorry.” His words were low, and tears threatened to spill again as he brought out his hand, hovering it over the blood before lightly placing his hand down on it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you.”

He received no answer.

He didn’t expect to receive one.

Techno tore his gaze away from the blood, bringing his hand back to his side. The symbols weren’t hard to find this time, and the reason why was morbid and obvious. Written whilst dying, Dream had plenty of blood to work with by this time, enough for it to seem blotchy, partially unreadable.

_ Insig--- _

He couldn’t tell the rest of the word, but there was a symbol--not a coded one by Dream--of sorts drawn next to it. It seemed similar to a… boar, if Techno had to guess. He’d have to do his best to commit it to memory, so he let his gaze linger on the symbol, staring, because there had to be importance to it if Dream had copied it down. Perhaps it was something the attackers had worn? Or maybe something that had been referenced in their conversation by the attackers? Either way, it was important enough for Dream to scratch down, so Techno would damn well remember it.

Underneath it were written three more sentences it seemed, the lines wobbly, maybe from a shaking hand or weak hand, if Techno had to guess. He wouldn’t doubt it if they were Dream’s last words.

Something in his chest twisted at such a thought. Nonetheless, he read it.

_ I am sorry. I love you. I love you, ev-n af--r dea--, I wi-- co--nu- to l--- -o-, my b-lo--d _

The coded message from practically be considered unreadable near the end, Dream’s handwriting to blotchy, to shaky to read, but Techno--Techno knew the words.

_ I’m sorry. I love you. I love you, even after death, I will continue to love you, my beloved. _

For the second time that day, Techno began to sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo! im chuggin along with writin these updates. i think i'll start to post weekly, once every thursday. im happy with my muse being what it is :)
> 
> thank yalls for your comments, to makes my heart go brr and also makes my muse to brr. i love each and every one of yalls, and i am unreasonably happy that some of yalls found this good enough to bookmark. thank you guys <3 stay hydrated an have an amazing week!!


	5. Dimidius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cupid told me to stop being evil with foreshadowing in the comments or he'd yell at me, so i must stop ;_;

Techno didn’t bother telling the detective--was he even a detective, or a semi-smart guy parading around the title?--his findings, he doubted they’d be able to help much anyways. No, if they were  _ stupid _ enough to have named it a robbery gone wrong, they’d be no help in this scenario. In absolutely no way, shape, or form. In fact, they were impertinent enough that they’d only drag Techno down, weighing on his shoulders as he tried to find the answer himself, whining at his feet, questioning how he got to every little conclusion he found. That was the opposite of what he needed, so he’d continue this investigation by himself, and, well, he wouldn’t get into any legal trouble for some murders. None would be the wiser.

For now, his best interest was getting home and trying to etch a copy of that symbol into a journal, or at least a piece of paper. So, he made his way back to the shitshow of a hospital and collected his abandoned items, not sparing the doctor a hello nor goodbye, letting silence fill the building as he walked in and left. Upon cot three undoubtedly still laid the body of-

Techno left before he could dwell too much on such a thought. He took the lesser travelled pathways to get out of the village, not wanting to go through the village square, refusing to feel those eyes boring into him, an itch he couldn’t get rid of. Pity and fear, that’s what those gazes were full of earlier, and Techno didn’t want to deal with it. For once, those stares pinned on his back made his skin crawl. It’d been years since he’d been bothered by stares, but now, with the cold blood staining the cobblestone pavement, that alone was suffice enough to say that Techno wasn’t as  _ stable _ or sound as he usually was right now.

The walk through the forest back to their-- _ his _ house was worse than the walk to the village. The quietness and solitude was oppressive, even more overbearing than his walk to the village. At least walking here, he had the thought of Dream walking home to entertain him with, but now-

Picking up his pace, he silenced any thoughts he had for the rest of the walk home.

In truth, though, he didn’t want to go back home. No,  _ no _ , not when--everything reminded Techno of him, of Dream, and his beloved’s name felt like acid on his tongue, and he hated how he’d begun to hate his husband’s name, despised the pain that it brought him. That catch in his throat, the burning that filled his chest, burning a hole inside of him that ripped through farther than any pit had ever sunk inside of him. And he knew, Techno knew as he approached their home, that it would only worsen.

And, oh, how he was right.

Walking up to their house, he had to pause to just  _ breathe _ . Memories trickled in against his will--Dream rushing out of their house to greet him; walking home and catching the sight of Dream reading it he window, undoubtedly waiting for Techno to have come back; lying outside in the grass next to Dream, gazing up at the clouds because Dream had  _ insisted _ he saw a cloud that looked  _ exactly _ like a cat.

Getting inside of their home was even worse. Hand grasping the doorknob,  _ he could do this _ . Techno had to remind himself, because--he was the Blade, he'd killed hundreds, if not over a thousand people, he was feared, and he was scared of opening the door to his own home.

"You can do this." There was a tremor in his voice, so he spoke again, louder and firmer. " _ I can do this." _ Before he could lose any confidence, he opened the door and took a step in.

It was the exact way he'd left it. That entirely was the problem.

The book he'd haphazardly placed down on their small table was still skewed to the side, having been placed down so haphazardly due to Dream wanting attention, an evening planned of reading turned into one of cuddling and kissing. Old weapons still hung on their wall, most prominently both of their favored swords hung cross each other.  _ Forever locked together.  _ Dream had once spoken, grin on his face.  _ United, just like us. _

Techno could still hear Dream's voice in his head.

He forced himself to continue to their kitchen, he--he needed to store their-- _ his _ \--groceries-

They'd danced here, once.

It'd had to have been around two in the morning, maybe three, and neither of them could sleep, so Dream had dragged him into the kitchen, and they'd danced.

Techno had known he was a horrible dancer and said just as much, but Dream refused to take no as an answer, and in no time, Dream was leading Techno in a dance which's name he couldn't recall. Techno was a soldier, he'd never learned how to dance, nobody had taught him. Not a noble-born, he'd never had a need to be taught. Dream, though, had worked as a spy, infiltrating higher-ranking enemies, especially the ranks of nobility. Dancing was something he had to have learnt, lest he stick out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of snobbish old money cooters dancing to music made years and years ago.

So Dream had led him around their kitchen, Techno apologizing almost every mother step for accidentally stepping onto his husband's foot, and Dream would as sure him that he's alright and doing just fine, but then tease,  _ for someone so dexterous on the battlefield, you'd think you'd be able to do it at home.  _ With that comment, Techno had decided to commit the dance to memory, stepping less on Dream's feet as their dances became more often and  _ one, two, three _ , and  _ one, two, three _ … He still remembered it.

Placing the bag down on their table, he closed his eyes, hands moving up into the proper position. If he thought hard enough, it was easy to believe Dream was there, questioning,  _ Are you ready? _

Techno nodded, and it was easy to conjure the sound of Dream humming the tune in his mind. A foot stepping forward, the next step back, slowly maneuvering in a ghost of a dance, his partner reaching from the grasp of what once was.

_ One two three, one two three, one two three,  _ and here he'd swirl his partner, his Dream before dipping him down, and Techno could never quite perfect this part as every time he did it, he couldn't resist the temptation of giving Dream a kiss, always enjoying that red that would lightly dust his beloved's cheeks, adorned by the countless freckles darting his lover's cheeks like stars. Dream would never complain that their dance was off for a few beats, never complained that they finished their dance after he'd finished humming the song. He remembered, and he was happy, he was joyous, and he was in love.

That was only a memory, though. In reality, there was no warmth from holding his partner, there was no weight of holding Dream from dropping to the  ground. Opening his eyes, he-

Dirty blond hair, splattered freckles, forest green eyes widened in surprise, lips opened in a surprised  _ o _ -

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t’ve-” The words were rushed out, their hands brought up and gesturing frantically in the air. They--he,  _ Dream _ , gods, it was Dream, Techno had to be hallucinating, this had to be some sort of grief-induced hallucination-

“I don’t--I just saw you dancing there, and it felt so  _ familiar _ , and I couldn’t just--I  _ had _ to, I couldn’t just not do it, I don’t-”

“Dream?” Surprise was etched into the hoarse calling of his husband’s name-

“Yeah?” Dream asked, as if--as if he should be here, like he hadn’t been on his last life when he’d  _ died _ , like-- _ oh. _ Dream--Dream  _ slid _ entirely  _ through _ Techno’s arms, and Techno was able to faintly see his own arms as Dream passed through them, and-

“You’re…  _ dead. _ ” A ghost--he was seeing Dream’s ghost. Techno stood straight again, unconsciously taking a step backwards.

“I mean, we both knew it was gonna happen at some point.” A grin was plastered onto Dream’s face, but it held no joy within it. “We work dangerous jobs, constantly surrounded by enemies. And, well,” Dream’s gaze moved down to his shirt, a grimace twisting his features. On his green hoodie, there was a dark shade of crimson staining it. “I suppose it could’ve been worse, more painful.” A wry grin replaced Dream’s last one, and his gaze went back up to Techno’s once again.

Techno--Techno was still trying to process this. Dream--there was no way Dream was--no,  _ no _ , this--it was Dream. Just… dead. Not alive. He was a ghost, and-- _ did he remember? _ Did Dream remember his death? Did Dream remember who had killed him? Had Dream, no, wait, Dream--Dream had just said, he’d just referenced the past as if-

“Hate to break the awkward silence here, Tech, but,” Dream brought hand up, placing it behind his neck--a nervous tick of his--as he spoke, “Where are we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i could've written this better/more? bc it's not short, but it's long long, either, so im just sittin here annoyed like. >:( i had a friend read this chapter over and they said it was good, so i'll take their word for it.
> 
> also, catch me makin a sword!technoblade longfic. motherfucker. it'll be in my drafts for a while before i publish it/anything, especially since this longfic has priority. aint no unfinished works here :anger emoji thing idk:


	6. Commemini

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man. I still feel bad for last week's chapter, I should've included this with it, make it 4k~ words instead of that 1.5k. Much apologies--I might double upload today since right now, the next chapter is shorter, and fluffy (as fluffy as you can get with a dead husband). Still undecided on that one, though, so we'll see!
> 
> Also, here's the beginning of your weekly reminder to not cross-post this ANYWHERE. I will personally be uploading this onto Wattpad soon.

_ Where are we? _

They’d lived here together for five years. Memories upon memories were built into this house, within the foundation itself, and Dream--Dream didn’t-

“You don’t remember?” There was a hoarseness to his voice, and Techno couldn’t fathom how calm Dream seemed. Techno was a mix of emotions, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to break down crying on the spot or go lock himself in their--his room and attempt to bottle everything up, store it deep down and just focus on his goal.

Right. His goal.

“Uh… No, sorry.” A laugh came from the ghost--yes, Dream was a ghost, that was the best word to describe the other--and it was tinged with a nervous tone, and there was something else in there. If Techno had to guess, it’d be fear. Hell, Techno would be scared as all hell too if their positions were flipped.

Techno needed to sit down. This--this was too tumultuous to handle. He was hardened by war,  _ forged in fire _ as his first commander had put it, and immune to death--no, nobody was immune, but he’d dodged death’s cold grasp a-many times--but simple  _ emotions _ made him weak.

Not that these emotions were weak, though. They were emotions strong enough to bring the feared Technoblade onto his knees and made him weep. So, in all entirety, they were the opposite of weak, and luck must’ve been on his side for his enemies to have never found out that weakness.

A shaky sigh left him, and he walked the short distance to their dining table and sat down on his chair. He took a moment of silence to force as much calmness, as much tranquility as he could within himself. He could do this. Techno could do this.  _ For revenge _ , he reminded himself. The more information he could get from Dream’s memories, the better luck he’d have finding out who had killed him. “What are the last things you remember, Dream?”

Dream walked--no,  _ floated _ \--to the dining table, reaching out to grasp the other chair, only to pause when his hand went through the wood of it. Clearing his throat, the ghost tore his gaze away from the sight, quickly drawing his hand back as he began, “I remember that… War--we were still in the war against Passivus, and I was out on a mission. My final mission, they’d said if I pulled it off, it would be my last and Passivus would be forced to surrender.” His brows were drawn together as he spoke, thinking hard on the answering, on recalling as he continued to speak, Techno silent as he listened.

“I must’ve failed that mission, huh?” Dream paused once again, biting the inside of his cheek, gaze moving down as a distressed look came on his face, silence filling the room. Soon enough, though, it was wiped off, replaced with a lopsided grin as Dream began to speak again, changing the subject, gaze looking back up at Techno. “We… Our relationship, we’ve been dating for--three months now? Four, maybe. What’s the date? Tell me the date and I’ll know for sure.”

There was such a hopeful look on Dream’s face, an optimistic glint in his eyes, and Techno almost didn’t want to tell Dream the truth. Keeping his mouth shut, he gestured to the wall to his right where a calendar hung, next to a window with the sun’s rays shining through.

The grin on Dream’s face widened, and he made his way around the table, talking as he went to the calendar. “The eighth of May is when we first got together, and if I’m remembering correctly, I was sent out in…” Dream’s sentence was never finished, the words seeming to die upon the ghost’s tongue, the grin on his face slowly fading.

“...The war against Passivus ended six years ago, Dream.” Techno’s voice was quiet, and he knew if he spoke any louder there’d be a tremor within his voice, and that was something he didn’t want to risk.

“You’re joking.” That grin was back as Dream turned around, and disbelief laced heavy in his words. “I--There’s no way I’ve forgotten _six year_ _s_ _worth_ of memories, you’re _lying_ -”

“ _ Don’t _ .” Techno’s word came out harsher than he expected, louder than he’d expected, and that grin was once again wiped off of Dream’s face, and Techno hated how he was aware of every heavy breath he took as he tried to reign his emotions in. “Do not accuse me of lying.”

“Why--why the hell  _ not _ ? This--it’s bullshit, this is all some--some hallucination, some weird dream-” Dream was rambling, that distressed look back on his face as his gaze turned back to the calendar. “It’s not possible. Six years worth of memories-- _ why? _ Why wouldn’t--why don’t I--Technoblade, what-” Dream turned fast, eyes widened, a tremor in his hands, “Techno, what did I forget?”

_ What did I forget? _ There were too many memories to recount, what could Techno possibly answer to encompass six years of memories? Their engagement, their marriage, moving here, to their home? The end of the war, Dream’s friends, their celebrations? Nights spent curled up together, days wasted soaking up the other’s presence, spars and duels to declare title of champion, of victor? The touch of skin upon skin, the whispers of  _ I love you _ s, their wedding vows?

“Technoblade?”

Dream’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, the ghost having moved in closer. Techno wanted to reach out, to hold the figure of his beloved, but his hands stayed frozen in place, and he refused to reach out and touch nothing but air, because Dream was  _ dead _ , this--his ghost, Dream’s ghost remembered  _ nothing _ but four months of their relationship, forgetting six years spent together-

“Techno, what did I forget? Did--did something happen between us? Is… Is me being here bad?” There was desperation tinged into Dream’s words, a franticness in his eyes, and Techno’s vision became blurred again, eyes burning with unshed tears.

“We’ve been married for five years.”

A shocked expression came onto Dream’s face, the ghost taking a step back. Instinct, that’s what it probably was, because he’d been floating before, a ghost didn’t need to walk.  _ Ghost _ . That’s all Dream was now, just a ghost, and a ghost of his past self at that, he didn’t even  _ remember- _

“Oh.” For some moments, that’s all Dream could muster out, silence filling the house once again.

_ Oh. _ Was that all the information was worth to Dream? Not even bothered to make a sentence, nothing except for--no,  _ no _ , this--Techno understood. Fuck--how we he even react to that? So much--Dream was probably going through so much right now, and, fuck he needed Techno’s support, not Techno to yell at him. Techno had to be strong, if not for himself, then for Dream.

“I… I didn’t…” Dream’s voice was quiet, shaky, and his gaze had been downcasted, staring down through transparent hands. “Oh, gods, Techno, I-”

“It’s alright, this--it isn’t your fault.” His were comforting, and a hand was instinctively brought out, reaching to grab onto his husband’s hands, only to grasp onto air, passing through transparent hands.

Dream recoiled from Techno’s touch, legs propelling him back, one step, two step, three- “We got married and I can’t remember. We’re married, and I don’t even remember giving you any vows, I don’t remember--oh, Gods, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry--Techno, ‘m sorry, I-”

“Dream,” Techno had stood up from his chair, but frozen in place. He didn’t want to reach out again, didn’t want to see his beloved recoil from his touch. Words--he could formulate words, he could try, but if there was a god above, it damn well knew Techno was shit with comforting. Techno was no poet, he was a soldier. Until Dream, violence had been the answer to every question, but now?

“It’s not your fault. You… You didn’t ask to get killed, didn’t ask to become a ghost, and I highly doubt you asked to forget six years worth of memories.” The words were spoken slowly and deliberately, trying to get the man in front of him to calm down, to think rationally once again. “This... Situation, it isn’t your fault. It’s someone else’s, and I am sure as hell goin’ to make them pay for what they did to you, alright?”

“Techno-”

“If you’re goin’ to apologize again, I don’t want to hear it.” Techno’s voice was firm, but not commanding. Either way, Dream went quiet again, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Taking in a breath, Techno took the silence to continue on, “It’s not your fault. You--ya wouldn’t leave me on purpose. I  _ know _ you wouldn’t.” There was a stability in his voice, and Techno didn’t quite understand how it was there, but he was thankful for it nonetheless.  _ If only he could feel it inside of himself. _

“I… I don’t think I would do something like that either.” Dream’s voice was calmer, and Techno was thankful for that. It meant he was doing something right.

Dream nodded, as if to assure both of them of his statement. “Yeah, I--no, I wouldn’t get myself killed purposely. I would’ve fought like hell unless there was something forcing me to be passive.” Dream brought his gaze back up, and it was sturdy, determined. “Like you. If you were being threatened and me acting out meant you’d die, I would be passive.”

Had Dream been that dedicated to Techno since their relationships’s early months? It brought both warmth and pain to his heart, but it also helped shape his current theory on Dream’s death. “Right. You’d been with your friends at the time: Sapnap and George. My thought was that they were bein’ used against you.”

Confusion flashed across Dream’s face for a moment, and before he could speak, Techno piped up, “Good friends of yours. You’d met ‘em while wounded in enemy territory, and barely could stop talkin’ about ‘em once you got back. After the war ended, I helped ya find them and reconnect with ‘em. Every once in a while, they come and visit us here.”

Dream gave a nod, brows furrowed as he undoubtedly took note of the new information being presented to him. “That sounds… familiar. Did they-”

“Dead.”

Dream sucked in a breath--did ghosts even need air? Techno was pretty sure this was the first time he saw Dream take any sort of breath--and nodded. “Yeah. That… Yeah.”

Leaning against the table, Techno’s hands loosely gripped the side of it, a finger quietly tapping on its wood. “If it sounds familiar, then… Maybe there’s a chance of you regainin’ your memories. Rememberin’.” Techno wasn’t one for hoping, and despised the notion of it. And yet, the words came tumbling out, and he hated them for being spoken, and most of all hated the hope that shone smally within that hole within his chest.

“Yeah--like the dance. I remembered that, and that pause--I don’t know  _ why _ I knew to pause instead of continue, but I did, so,” Dream seemed to reciprocate Techno’s hope tenfold, optimism lighting up dead eyes. For a moment, Techno could believe that this was Dream in his entirety standing in front of him, and not a ghost. The thought vanished as soon as it came, shoved down and away, a bitter feeling being left in its wake. 

“It’s just a matter of time and unlocking them, right?” There was a smile on Dream’s face, and it twisted at Techno’s heart. He wasn’t able not to nod.

“Yeah,” He agreed. “Time and trial and attempt.”

“Alright!” Dream brought his hands together, a quiet clap resounding within the room. “What’s the plan, then? I know you, you already have one, and I call bullshit if you don’t.”

A chuckle left Techno--a  _ chuckle _ , Techno had  _ laughed _ . Leave it Dream to be able to elicit the happiest emotions from him, leave it to Dream to make him so damn happy. For a moment, Techno could pretend he deserved this happiness, and that nothing bad had happened to take this away. “It’s not much, but I have the startin’ of one bein’ planned out. At the scene… Where you’d died, you’d written your code that you’d been attacked by a group of five people. Along it, you’d scribbled down some sort of symbol, and I’m assumin’ that it had relatance to your attackers--here, let me get some paper and write it down before I go ‘n’ forget it.” With that, Techno turned to their counters and drawers--third from the left on the top, that was where their paper and ink was kept.

Walking over, he opened the drawer and grabbed the paper, ink, and pen. He could feel Dream’s presence near, and as he placed the paper down and dipped the pen into the bottle of ink, he could see Dream watching out of the corner of his eye. Roughly, Techno drew what he could recall from the symbol Dream had drawn before his death. “This,” He spoke when he finished, looking over at Dream. “Does it look familiar to you at all?”

Dream gazed at the paper, concentrated and in thought for a few seconds before shaking his head, a sigh leaving him as he brought his gaze up to Techno. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizin’.” Techo replied. Sure, it sucked as all hell that Dream had no current remembrance of it, but having Dream here for any semblance of help was better than nothing at all. Folding up the paper, he slipped it into his pocket and began to put the pen and ink back into its proper place, speaking, “I think I know someone who might. He should be able to help, the old man knows a lot about… Well, everythin’.”

“Would I know him?” Dream questioned, having drifted back a little bit.

“Ya should.” Techno answered, leaning against the counter. “Remember Phil?”

“Phil? Of course I know Phil!” Dream practically lit up at the name, a grin forming at his face, undeniably happy at remembering something. “Head intelligence, right? You kept in contact with him?”

Techno gave a nod. “Yeah. He lives a few days of travel away. Not close, but not far either. He’s a close friend of ours.”

“So that’s part one of the plan, then?” Dream questioned, and the hope in his eyes didn’t help Techno smother any of the hope that was shining within himself either. “He has to know  _ something.  _ He knows--everything! He has to know. He  _ has _ to.”

“An’ if he doesn’t, he might know someone who does.” If Phil didn’t know… Eyebrows furrowing, the next words he spoke was more of a promise to himself than anything else. “I don’t care how long it takes or how far I have to travel, I  _ will _ find someone who knows what the hell this symbol stands for, an’ I’ll kill every damn person who bears it.”

“That’s the Blade I married!” Dream’s grin widened, and Techno’s heart clenched in a good way. “When do you plan on leaving? Do you have to send a letter to him before visiting?”

Eyes glancing to the side and out the window, it was easy to guess the time around three or four in the afternoon, much time having passed fast since he’d first woken up today. As much as he’d like to leave today, it’d probably be best to prepare today and leave tomorrow, rather than rush getting ready for an extra hour or two of traveling. “Tomorrow. I’ll get ready tonight, and leave tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dream answered, giving a nod.

If someone had asked Techno hours ago how he expected to feel today, hopeful wasn’t an answer he would’ve given them. And yet, here he was, hopeful as a child being promised candy. He wasn’t going to question how Dream was back here in front of him, but he was happy for it, and wouldn’t attest it.

His beloved was back, and there was a chance of Dream remembering everything he had forgotten. There was a chance of Phil knowing who belonged to the symbol the attackers who had stolen the last life of Dream had worn, and even moreso where they were located, or even just a general whereabouts. Any information would help Techno, and Techno would take any he was given.

Techno was going to avenge Dream, and he’d chase after the revenge until his final breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayooo, decent length chapter pog. i honestly have no clue how long this fic'll be goin, but i hope you'll be here for the ride. i've honestly got a LOT of muse to write ever since i started writing this, and i literally wrote this last week and was v i b r a t i n g with excitement to publish this bc!!! look!!!!! i did the write!!!!! i did it!!!!!!!!
> 
> BAHAHA- in all seriousness, though, if i start writing more chapters earlier and earlier, i might go into double uploads a week, and also maybe start on a new longfic! sword!technoblade au pog, longfic will go brrr
> 
> until then, though, enjoy these, and any oneshots i publish for dnb :> have a wonderful day, and stay hydrated!!


	7. Epistolaris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember how i said how i might double upload? yeah, uh, i just added onto this chapter. consider this your double upload, otherwise you wouldve gotten a short chapter and a Huge chapter. id rather separate it this way :] enjoy!

Ghosts didn’t need sleep. Techno would call it strange, but, really, it kinda made sense. Dream didn’t have a corporal form, so it wasn’t like he needed to rest his body, or a body in general. Rather, he seemed to… fade out, much to Techno’s panic. Dream had been quick to reappear, telling Techno that this was sorta sleeping to him and reassuring Techno that he was still there, just not visible.

_ It’s kinda natural.  _ That’s what Dream said, giving a shrug as he spoke the words. Natural. Like any of this shit was natural.

Techno didn’t make a comment on it, though, only nodded, thanked Dream for the explanation and went to bed. After preparing things, of course: that came first before the whole ghosts-don’t-sleep-they-vanish incident.

Closing the door behind him with a quiet breath, the bed had never looked more welcoming than right now. After twist and twist being slapped in his face, he was an emotional wreck, enough for him to be physically tired. He’d sleep soon, though, as there was something he wanted to do first.

His steps were quiet on their floor, only creaking when he crouched down onto one knee in front of the bed. He didn’t need any candlelight to know where he was reaching, he’d memorized the position of the box from the countless times he’d pulled it out, or Dream had pulled it out.

It was an ornate thing, truly. It was smaller than it was large, the wood polished and its corners engraved with golden-painted vine-like swirls reaching out towards the center, but not quite reaching it. The latch was simple, a small keyhole that fit perfectly for the small key that hung around his neck at all times. Dream had a similar one, and guessing by the state of how his murder had been handled-

He’d have to visit the doctor again, collect the trinkets Dream wore. A thought made his stomach churn: what if the group had stolen Dream’s ring? The key? To make it seem more like a robbery than a planned out murder? The feeling it gave was a vile one, and Techno did his best to shove it down and focus on what was in front of him.

Carefully taking off the necklace, he unlocked the box and--setting the key aside for now--and carefully opened the top. Letters were neatly organized by date, the majority dating from years ago. Fingers brushing the tops of the letters, a soft smile spread upon his lips at the memories. Even in recent years, they’d written letters to each other. Did they live together? Yes, but that didn’t stop them from handing each other letters, or having to shoo--sometimes actually shove--the other out of a room so there were no peaks at letters being written. Every major holiday and birthdays letters had been written, but--in the terms of recent years--sometimes letters were randomly written in those in between months, just general letters of affection that were treasured and kept within this little box to be preserved.

Fingers once again brushing over the letters, he stopped at random, pulling out the letter he’d landed on. Luckily, it was one of Dream’s, not one of his own. It was dated five years prior, around the time when they had first gotten this house together. Their first permanent home after being dragged round and around, paraded like gods to the people.

_ They won the war! _

_ Look, look--even now Dream hides his face! _

_ That’s the Blade--yes, he’ll come with his sword if you disobey Mummy. I told you he was real! _

_ They have to be touched by the hands of a god. _

_ Our saviors! _

Their cheers were unsettling to Techno, and still rang in his head after all these years. It must’ve been the same for Dream as well, the content of the letter was clear.

_ My Techno, (aka big softie) _

_ I just had to shove you out of our bedroom. “This is our bedroom! Our first day here, and I’m not even allowed into my own bedroom. This is a scam.” That’s what you’d said, and I laughed as you let me shove you out. _

_ Our bedroom. _

_ Finally something permanent, something that’s ours. _

_ I’ve been so excited for this, for us. George and Sapnap li _ _ ve a few days of travel away, so we can visit them as well and keep in contact. No more wondering about meeting up with them, and on that note, no more wondering where we’ll be sleeping come the next week. _

_ Home. _

_ We’ve a home together. We can live together. Gods--every day I’ll be wa _ _ king up to your pretty face. I’ll be waking up in your arms. Every day, it’ll just be us, and I’m practically vibrating with excitement. I don’t know how you’ve kept up with me this past week, honestly, because I’m pretty sure I’ve almost talked your ear into falling off because I’ve been so excited for this, for us. _

_ One day we’ll be old coots sitting on our porch and yelling at some random kid from the village to get off our lawn. Well, maybe you will, but I’d probably tell ‘em tales from the war. Specifically falling in love with a big old grunt (you). “Did you know the Blade is just a big old softie?” I’d ask, and you’d probably kick my shin and deny it. Meanwhile, literally yesterday when I gave you a pretty wildflower I found you practically melted, I saw it in your eyes. And now it’s the centerpiece for our dining table. You’re a big old softie, and you can’t deny it. _

_ Oh, boo, you’re knocking on the door and complaining I haven’t let you in yet. I take everything I said back, you’re a horrible and mean husband an--_ _

_ Alright, I’m back after fifteen minutes because you dragged me into bed to cuddle. I take back my take back, you’re still a big old softie, even if you’re now glaring at me and telling me to finish writing so I can come back and cuddle with you. Guess I have to end it here. _

_ With love, _

_ Your Dream _

He remembered that memory. Gods, he remembered it. Having to wait for Dream, getting bored of waiting and barging into the room, quite literally picking Dream up and dragging him into bed, all while Dream protested in between wheezing laughs.

Would Dream remember it now? If Techno were to show him the letter he’d written, or perhaps even have him read it out loud, would he remember?

There was a chance.

Gently, he folded the letter in tune with its original creases, and slipped it back into its envelope. Meticulously, he found where the letter had originally rested, and he slipped it back into the box and used the key to lock it. It was with care that he picked the box of precious memories up, standing and making his way to their nightstand. Making room, he placed the box on top of the small table. Tomorrow, he’d bring this with him. No matter what or how, he’d bring it with him. He’d find room, and make sure it was safe, wherever he put it.

It would come with him with his travels.

He would not part without it.

\---

Waking up the next day, his bed was cold once again, the warmth once again only coming from himself.

Techno wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to that emptiness again. Opening his eyes to see Dream--whether his husband was awake or not--was a beautiful thing, a luxury he’d taken for granted. His gaze on nothing but empty sheets, his heart ached.

He wished it was Dream he’d woken up to.

_ Every day I’ll be waking up to your pretty face. _

“Morning Techno!”

Techno jumped at the sound of Dream’s voice from behind him, flipped around to face the other, a beat of silence passing before he responded, “G’mornin’, Dream.” In this moment, Techno wanted to just lay back down. Forget--forget everything, and just…

“When are we going to go get Phil? Oh--what happened between him and his lady? Samsung, or whatever her name was.”

“Still married. Probably fuckin’ quizzin’ each other on some trivial knowledge for fun.” Techno grumbled as he hoisted himself off of the bed, fixing the covers and he continued on, “Got two kids. Wilbur an’ Tommy. Tommy’s the youngest, an’ a gremlin. The definition of birth control.”

“The defin--definition of  _ what _ -” A wheezing laugh came from Dream, and the familiar sound earned a chuckle from Techno as he began to walk to his kitchen, Dream following behind him.

“Ya heard me. He’s loud an’ obnoxious. Only five, but an annoyin’ brat. Wilbur’s no better, kid only eggs him on.” That wasn’t to say he didn’t care for the kids. As much as he was currently shittalking them, it didn’t mean he didn’t care for them, annoying as they were. And to be quite fair, if Techno had heard anybody else saying what he’d just said, he’d sock them in their jaw. Phil’s kids were practically his own family, and the kids seemed to think the same.  _ Uncle Techno, Uncle Dream _ .

Reaching out, Techno grabbed one of the apples on their counter, taking a bite from it. He wasn’t looking forward to having to tell the kids about Dream.  _ Uncle Techno, where’s- _

“Did… We don’t have-”

“No.” Techno winced at the harshness of his own words, and cringed at the fact he still had his mouth full. Swallowing, he shook his head. “No, we didn’t… We haven’t-- _ hadn’t _ adopted. Sorry.”

Dream’s hands shot up, waving gestures. “No! No--you’re fine, I get it, really, I mean, I--I  _ did _ di-”

“I’d rather not focus on that.” The words were quiet, and, shit, for a moment, it felt hard to breathe-

“My bad--my bad, ‘m sorry, I--I’m sorry, Techno, I-” The ghost cut himself off, and a hand was brought up, moving to comfort the other, but jerking to a stop, just short touching Techno’s shoulder. Dream hurriedly yanked his hand back, grasping it tightly like it’d just been burnt, and clearing his throat, he offered, “We… We should probably get going, yeah? Don’t… Don’t want to waste daylight.”

A shaky breath left Techno, but he gave a nod nonetheless. “Yeah. Can’t waste daylight.” He felt bad, for reacting like this, and Techno couldn’t fathom how horrible Dream must feel. Six years of memories gone, the war you thought you were in long gone, and you’re suddenly married with no memory of it. The thought made the guilt start to creep in, creating an unsettling pit within his stomach. He wasn’t used to feeling guilt.

“You’ll be able to follow along, right?” Changing the subject, taking another bite from the apple.

Dream gave a nod, a relieved look on his face, undoubtedly thankful for the change of subject. “I think so, yeah. I don’t--I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like there’s some sort of… attachment, that I feel to you? So that even if I didn’t  _ want _ to follow, I’d still somewhat have to. Kinda like… I dunno how to explain it.” A sheepish smile formed on his lips, a hand being brought up to the back of his neck.

“...Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.” That was interesting, to say the least. Would Phil know anything about ghosts? Techno would have to ask him. Fuck--he’d… Phil wouldn’t think Techno was crazy, right? Wouldn’t mark him as an insane widow, seeing things when he shouldn’t be?

Phil wouldn’t, right?

Would Phil even be able to see Dream? Or was this… Techno had no clue. He dealt with viole nce and peace, not ghosts. He’d never had to deal with a ghost, and to be quite frank, it’d make more sense for a vengeful ghost to haunt him, one that he’d killed in battle, not Dream’s ghost.

He’d never thought he’d have to see Dream’s ghost, let alone have to visit Dream’s grave. F uck, they both hadn’t even reached their thirties, they--they were still  _ young _ , they-

He. Techno was still young. Dream  _ had _ been young.

Sucking in a breath, he began to walk out of the kitchen. “I’ll finalize some packing, and then we’ll head off.”

Dream followed behind with a small frown on his face, but if he was worried, he didn’t speak on it. “Alright. Sounds good.”

Techno made sure to pack the letters in his personal bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAOOO i uploaded this shit instead of doing my finals. pretty pog. how's yalls days been? make sure to stay hydrated!! love yalls <3


	8. Mors Ad Te

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shortish? chapter,, remember when i said there wouldnt be any more bad angst??
> 
> aha.
> 
> in my defense, i didnt plan on this bein written the way it did, but uh,

_ Techno! _

_ Have you met Phil at all? He’s surprisingly not too bad of a guy. To be completely honest, I thought he was gonna be an asshole. Some snooty, know-it-all guy, but he was kind and helpful. His accent isn’t one of ours, but nobody brought it up, so I didn’t bring it up. I suppose we’re just desperate for any help we can get, and I’ve only heard good things about Phil from both sides. Plus, I talked to him a bit after, just some chill talking, most definitely not trying to get information (I would never! I know what look you’d be giving me right, and I am just the most innocent person right now, and totally undeserving of that look). _

_ He said he had a wife and kid back at home. Wilbur--that’s his name, I remember that. Smart kid, from what I heard, already writing Phil letters from home, even if he’s so young. Nine years old! A young kid. I remember when I was that young, already swinging around a sword when I was his age. “He’s more of a scholar like me, rather than a fighter.” Phil had said, and if that’s true, I think Wilbur will have some shoes to fill in. _

_ His wife’s name is Samsung, and, really, they must be from far away, since I’ve never heard of such a name before. I asked about it (not rudely, mind you), and he laughed and told me it was alright for asking (which I totally did not feel bad for asking), and that it meant “Three stars” from where she came from. An old, cultural name. Apparently there were three stars shining brightly in the sky when she was born, which sounds cool. I wish my parents were smart enough to give me a name with a cool meaning like that, but, no, I just get Dream. Not that I’m entirely complaining, but, well, it is what it is. _

_ I think you and him would get along well, Tech. I don’t know, I just get the vibes. He’s all ohhh I’m knowledgeable beyond my years, and you’re all mmm smart man turned blood-seeking. Y’know? _

_ Well, that’s it. I’ll be heading to my next mission a day or so after this letter is sent thanks to Phil giving me all the information I needed, so my next letter won’t be for a bit. _

_ Talk to you soon, _

_ Dream. _

Arriving at Phil’s place was almost the same as it always had been. That  _ almost _ laid within the fact that Dream hadn’t been on a horse beside him, but that wasn’t a thought Techno wanted to think of and, to be fair, Dream was somewhere nearby. Where exactly, Techno had no clue, but he was just… Somewhere. Invisible. They’d agreed upon it about a mile away from Phil’s house, alongside… Other things. Dream could teleport short distances, apparently, and he’d done it to keep up with Techno on his horse, Rocket (He’d gotten Rocket during his service in the war, and he was a spectacular good horse. Techno would be damned if he hadn’t kept Rocket after the years he’d spent with the horse).

Dismounting Rocket with a grunt, he’d begun to tie the lead onto Rocket when the front door of Phil’s house practically bursted open, two children scrambling out.

“Technoblade! Techno-”

“Big T, Big T!”

The two children’s voices were loud, and almost instantly he had Tommy clutching tightly onto his leg and Wilbur standing behind Tommy, a grin spread on his face. “Techno, it’s been ages-”

“Ha! Your voice cracked!” Tommy’s childish insult--to be expected, really, the boy was only six after all--cut Wilbur off. Phil could call Wilbur a scholar all he wanted, but Techno could damn well see that urge to punt the small child in front of him, and Wilbur probably would have if Techno hadn’t placed an arm out in front of Wilbur to stop him.

“Now, let’s not already get into fightin’ within a minute of me bein’ here. What would your father say, huh?” He lightly chided, a snort coming from Rocket behind him.

“I can take him! Ohh, I’d smack him real good! I’d use what Uncle Dream taught me the last time he was here, just like he’d showed me!” Tommy had unclutched himself from Techno’s leg and had began to jump up and down and move around excitedly as he spoke, unaware of the twist of pain his words caused for Techno.

Just seeming to realize it, Tommy paused in his energetics and looked up at Techno with all the quizzicality of a six year mustering. “Where is Uncle Dream, Techno?”

The arrow had been loaded and let loose, thunking straight into Techno’s heart.  _ Where is Uncle Dream? _

“He…” Even Wilbur looked curious, and, fuck, Techno thought he’d be prepared for this, but-

Oblivious, Tommy continued on. “He always arrives with you! Dadza always covers my eyes when we see you both coming in, says you do  _ naughty stuff _ like I don’t see him and Momza kissing like-”

“Tommy,” Techno’s gaze averted from the rambling child and up to Phil, who stood in the doorway. Eyes locking, there was a brief moment of understanding that had Techno’s grip on the lead tighten as he tried to withhold his emotions and let that mask stay up as long as he possibly could.

“Why don’t you go tie up Rocket with Wilbur? I’m sure Techno wouldn’t mind if you did that, and I’m sure Rocket wouldn’t mind if you spoiled him a bit.”

Tommy looked over at Techno for permission, and Techno gave the small child a nod which earned a whoop of excitement from the blond. Once more practically jumping in place, he grabbed Wilbur’s hand with one hand, and used the other to grab the lead from Techno, dragging Wilbur as Rocket dutifully followed the child’s excited lead to the nearby stables.

“Why don’t you come on in, mate?” Phil’s offer was kind and welcoming as he stepped to the side, and Techno didn’t even want to bother with words just yet, knowing his voice would betray him as soon as he spoke. Nodding, Techno merely walked over and into the house, Phil giving Techno’s shoulder a pat as he walked by.

“Techno!” Samsung’s smile was bright as ever, the woman always happy to see him visiting. “I’m guessing Dream is out with Tommy and Wilbur? You know, Tommy just wouldn’t stop talking-”

“No.” Techno felt bad for cutting her off, he truly did, but each word was a cut to his heart, another punch in his gut. “Dream’s not here.”

Confusion flashed onto the brunet’s face, her gaze snapping to her husband’s, only to be met with a shake of Phil’s head. “Well… I should go check on the boys, then, and make sure they aren’t doing anything too horrible to Rocket. They really bounce off of each other’s chaotic tendencies.” Giving a small laugh, she gave a small wave goodbye before walking out of the house, undoubtedly going to fulfill her promise, and give the two men some space to talk as well.

“Let’s go to my study.” Phil’s words were gentle and kind, and Techno found himself nodding again.

Phil’s study was comparable in knowledge to those residing within the capital. Bookshelves were practically walls, books stacked and organized neatly from the floor to the ceiling. The light in the room came from the ceiling itself: made of glass, the sun’s light spread its warmth and golden rays into the room. The window, of course, was able to be covered if needed, and the more vulnerable books had been stored away in a separate room so there was no fear of the aging books being damaged. In the center of the rug--on top of an ornate carpet--there rested Phil’s desk. Two extra chairs had already been brought in, and Phil’s chair moved beside them. Techno sat down in one, Phil in his own, leaving the chair to Techno’s left empty.

For a moment, it was silent. Techno couldn’t bring himself to speak. A soft sigh left Phil, the older man’s eyes closing for a in the solemnity of the moment before opening once again, gaze turning to Techno. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“Dead.” Techno’s answer was barely about a whisper, voice wavering. His gaze didn’t meet Phil’s, instead staring at the desk in front of them. He had came here with the intent of coming and leaving. Ask about the symbol and then leave. His goal was revenge, not sentiment, not emotion, not-

“I held his dead body in my arms.” Techno’s voice cracked at the confession. Shoved down emotion was beginning to bubble, and tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “He--Phil, Phil, he’d promised--He promised me-- _ Phil- _ ” And then the tears were gushing out, a sob racking his shoulders as he brought a hand up, covering the lower half of his face as he hung his head down, eyes squeezing shut.

Phil was with him in an instant, secure arms wrapping Techno in a hug. Techno’s heart ached, and it ached for Dream. He wished Dream was still here with him; he wished it were Dream here hugging him; he wished Dream had been here, that as Techno put Rocket and Spirit into stables he heard Dream entertaining Tommy and Wilbur, hearing Dream’s wheezing laugh fill the air alongside the two brothers’. He wished Dream hadn’t died, he wished death hadn’t parted them, and he wished Dream had kept his promise.  _ I’ll never leave you. _ Selfish, Techno was being so selfish, it wasn’t Dream’s fault, he knew that, he knew that so damn well, and, yet.

“It hurts.” He rasped out the sobbed words as he turned to Phil, burying his face in the older’s shoulder, arms tightly wrapping back around the other. “It hurts so damn bad, Phil.”

“I know, mate.” Phil tightened the hug, and in that moment, Techno let his other worries fall aside and let his emotions out. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t graceful, but Techno crying was never meant to be a graceful thing. His emotions were raw, and the pain inside of him as fresh as the day he’d first held Dream’s dead body. His husband’s ring weighed heavy in his pocket, having retrieved their wedding ring before his departure. The ring had sparkled akin to Dream’s eyes as his husband spoke his vows,  _ until death do we part _ , but neither had expected death to come so soon.

They both knew death would one day come. Death was their final fate, and no soul could escape fate’s cold path. Fate, they’d called it when Techno had managed to save him during a failed mission of Dream’s. Fate, they’d called it when he kissed Dream’s lips for the first time. Fate, Techno now called it as he sat now next an empty chair as tears fell down his cheeks. It was unfair. It was cruel. It was devastating. And Techno couldn’t do one damn thing against it. Not one soul had ever gone against fate and returned triumphant. To kill fate would be killing a god itself, and Techno was only a mere mortal, stricken down by grief.

It took some time for Techno to calm himself, and Phil didn’t degrade or shame him for his tears. He was a quiet recipient, rubbing gentle circles onto the younger’s back to comfort. For that, Techno was thankful. He was given time and comfort, and the house was quiet. Undoubtedly, Phil knew that there was more to why Techno was here, but he didn’t ask nor pry, he merely gave time, and for that Techno was grateful for as well.

In that moment, Techno could almost illude himself; he could pretend that he had all the time in the world to cry out every little tear and let out every little emotion in every crack and crevice that had formed in the wake of Dream’s death. He wanted to, so badly, but time wasn’t infinite, and with every growing second, Dream’s murderers grew farther and farther away, nowhere near closer to the death Techno planned to bring them.

For them, their fate was death. If Techno could not kill fate, he’d herald the same fate of his beloved onto them, and he’d slaughter them and all they cared about too. Fate led to his beloved’s death, and fate would lead to their death as well.

_ Mors ad te. _

Death upon you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anywhore,, i wish i couldve written more, but this was all wrote in one sitting yesterday because i had the ACT on tuesday. tbf, i was thinking abt putting it back until friday/saturday/sunday, but i decided, fuck it, i can pull this shit off btwn hw, and i did! look at me go. good job me.
> 
> now i must go sob in physics class because i am so very bad at it


End file.
